


Some Kind Of Desperation

by ladyofdecember



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson is alone again. And there's nothing he can do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kind Of Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I would say this takes place just after Sam leaves him, the second time, so season 7. House is with Cuddy and therefore has no time for Wilson anymore. I came up with this after watching that episode and couldn't help thinking, wow, now the shoe is on the other foot, huh?

He sits and he waits, just like he always has. He's leaning against the window pane in his office, in quiet contemplation. He watches the rain scatter across the glass as a storm rages on outside.

His mind isn't the only thing under attack tonight. Shivering a bit he moves to fold his arms up against his chest.

He won't cry, he won't let any of the tears fall, not this time. He's stronger than this, he tells himself. He'll be okay, just like he always is.

It's late, going on ten o'clock. A part of him wonders why he doesn't just head home, back to the loft. The empty loft. Right.

If he heads home now, he's sure to spend the night all by himself. But, if he stays here in his office, just watching the rain come down, maybe he can pretend he's just waiting on someone. Maybe it'll let him pretend things are really okay, when they are clearly, obviously not.

He doesn't want to think too much about reality right now. Reality is kicking his ass. He's alone, again, and the thought makes his stomach clench up and his heart hurt and he finds that it's hard to swallow the lump that forms in his throat. The tears end up pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over any second now.

He bites his lip in contemplation. Should he... ? He could call him, tell him he needs his help, beg him, plead him to come by and get him. He could ask him to come home with him, back to the loft, back to their loft.

Shutting his eyes in resignation, he moves to fold in on himself protectively. How he wishes it was a year ago, when things were so much simpler.

Before Sam came back into the picture, things were actually going pretty great. Life was great. He was happy. Too bad happiness never lasts, at least not for him.

He wants to pick up the phone, call House, and tell him everything. He wants to pour out his heart to the man, really lay it all on the line. Ten years of secrets and lies and regrets and it's all threatening to spill out of him, implode him from the inside. He just can't take it anymore. He really can't.

It's this sort of depression and desperation that has led him to remain here, in his office, so many hours after he was meant to go home at the end of the day.

He just can't budge from the spot. He can't will himself to move. He's stuck.

If he calls him, if he even dares, he knows the response he'll get. House is with Cuddy, they're probably together right now in fact, at his place. 

No, it's not fair for him to ask for something he wants now, when he had it, he threw it away. He's lost. It's not fair for him to ask for it back now.

Wilson swallowed the lump in his throat and tried blinking back his tears. Moving to a standing position, he lets his eyes ghost over the rain on the window once more. Sighing deeply, he tries to will his tears to stop and the aching pain in his chest to diminish.

He has to head home. He has no choice. Life is hard, life is lonely, but you just gotta get over it and deal with it. No one ever said life was fair, right?

He moves to grab his coat from the rack beside the door, pulling it on slowly and wrapping it protectively around himself.

His mind worries. Will he ever be alright? What if things never get better?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he moves to lock up the office and head home finally.

These were thoughts for another day and right now, the best thing for him, would be sleep. In sleep, you had dreams, and you could pretend everything was okay. So, that was what he would settle for, for now. Dreams.


End file.
